


Shearing Day

by Jathis



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Fibro Cecil, Gen, Native American Cecil, POCecil, Trans Carlos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 05:37:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2055741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jathis/pseuds/Jathis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil still isn't used to Carlos cutting his hair</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shearing Day

Carlos idly wondered if there would ever be an easy way to do this. He hated having to do it himself but after seeing what happened to Telly, Carlos didn’t want to risk another barber losing their mind and job. It was because of this that he waited until his hair could be pulled back into a ponytail before locking himself n the bathroom to cut it himself, (and make sure Cecil couldn’t run in and stop him as had happened several times before).

He saw it as a good sign that Cecil only tried to break into the bathroom five times that day. He had banged on the door with his cane mostly, pleading with Carlos not to do it. Soon the banging lessened and he eventually was silent, most likely sulking now. Perhaps the radio host was becoming used to Carlos cutting his hair every four months.

Gently he rapped his knuckles on the door to the bathroom. “Cecil?” he asked.

“…Is it finished?”

“Yeah, I finished,” Carlos said, running a hand through his now much shorter hair. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked.

There was a long stretch of silence between them. Carlos shifted on his feet anxiously, “Cecil?”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Okay then… I’m coming out now,” Carlos warned as he unlocked the door. He waited another moment before actually opening the door, stepping out slowly for Cecil to see him. He found Cecil sitting on the edge of his bed, both hands resting on top of his cane, chin on top of his hands and a mournful expression on his face. “Cecil…”

“Your hair…”

Carlos stepped closer to the other, offering him a sad smile. “Do you like it?” he asked.

“…Yes,” Cecil finally said, sitting up straight to look up at the other. “I think your hair is beautiful…even after you savagely cut it.” The clear gemstones that adorned the sides of his cane suddenly turned a bright and furious shade of red, sharp spikes protruding around them.

His cane usually only did that when Steve Carlsburg was around or when Cecil was very angry about something else.

“You can watch my hair grow back over four months,” Carlos reminded him.

Cecil huffed a little, looking away as he gripped his cane a little tighter, forcing it to calm down and go back to its neutral appearance. The spikes sunk back in but the gems were still glowing red, showing his displeasure. “I know,” he muttered.

Carlos smiled and gently hugged Cecil around his shoulders, rubbing his cheek against Cecil’s. “I love you, Cecil. Don’t be mad about my hair,” he pleaded.

“…Maybe after dinner,” Cecil offered, the color of the gems starting to soften, turning to a bright yellow, sign that he was becoming incredibly happy again.


End file.
